Coming Home
by krissakai
Summary: A personal tragedy calls Jennifer back from Atlantis, with Ronan sent along to look after her. Since he hasn't spoken to her since that fateful hallway conversation, awkward doesn't begin to describe it. In the face of heartache and grief, will Ronan be able to help her come to terms with her losses? Could a new beginning for them come out of these ashes?
1. Chapter 1

**1.**

Chief Medical Officer Jennifer Keller pulled the suture tight with a pair of forceps, her eyes burning with the strain of little sleep and overuse.

"Almost done." She mustered a smile for the small Athosian boy perched on the table, dark little eyes staring at her like a bird. Jennifer tied off the suture and turned for the scissors, a flash of orange—

_The Dedalus exploded. _

_One moment it was there, armored and formidable, outlined against the stars. And the next it was gone, vanished into a mushroom of orange flame. _

_A whole ship, gone. Hundreds of lives, snuffed out. _

_General Woolsey, gone. _

_McKay. Gone. _

_Vanished into the flames as if he'd never been, as if he hadn't sat at the breakfast table that morning expounding on some new theory while polishing off five pancakes with syrup. Gone as if they'd never stood on the bridge, arguing again. _

_If she hadn't said what she did, he wouldn't have gone. He would still be alive._

_He was gone, and it was all her fault._

"Doctor Keller." A voice spoke sharply, as though it had spoken several times before.

Jennifer blinked, took a deep breath of sterile air, and the Atlantis medical center returned in a rush that sent her head pounding. She locked eyes with a little boy, his wide gaze frightened, and dropped her gaze to the scissors in her gloved hand.

"Doctor Keller." Her assistant spoke again, frowning at her. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, yes." Jennifer snipped the sutures and finished binding the wound with the ease of overmuch practice, humiliation rushing hot over her cheeks. How long had she been daydreaming?

She couldn't do this. Not with lives in her hands—she could hurt someone. The thought of being the cause of one more death clenched her heart into a hard ball inside her chest.

Perhaps it was time to leave Atlantis. If she couldn't do her job, was hurting those she came to help—

"Are you sure you are well?"

Jennifer looked up into the eyes of her aide, catching concern and a touch of fear.

"I am fine." Jennifer managed a smile. "Just over-tired."

"But—"

"Doctor Keller." Jennifer turned at the summons, grateful for the interruption. "The Colonel wants to see you in his office."

"I'll be right there," she said, removing her gloves. _Wonder what Sheppard wants?_

Sheppard sat at Woolsey's desk, only his mussed black hair and bent head visible over a stack of papers. Jennifer paused just inside the doorway and cleared her throat.

He looked up, and Jennifer frowned. He looked terrible, with the drawn features and shadows under his eyes that people get when they have slept too little and lost too much. Someone needed to sit on him and make him sleep a few hours one of these days. Teyla, or…

"Hi, Doc." Sheppard gave a half-smile, and cleared his throat. "Have a seat."

Jennifer frowned and moved a stack of papers to find a chair underneath. He wasn't looking for a brief status report. Not the Athosians, then.

Sheppard fell silent and she narrowed her eyes, watching the fast tap of his fingers on the edge of the desk. A sick feeling grew in the pit of her stomach. What was wrong? Was it Teyla? But no, if she were having complications Jennifer would be one of the first to know.

"How can I help you, Colonel?" She leaned forward in her chair.

He grimaced. "We received some news today."

Jennifer shifted in her chair, unnerved by his continued silence. It wasn't like him to be so reticent. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry, Doc." Sheppard tapped his fingers and then clasped his hands. "You know I'm not good at—emotional—stuff. It should be Woolsey, or…"

It was bad news, then. Jennifer took a deep breath. "Just tell me, Sheppard."

He cleared his throat, turning a gaze on her full of sympathy. "We received word this morning that your father passed away. A heart attack. I'm very sorry."

Jennifer grew still in her chair, her heart freezing in her chest. Her father? Her daddy, always so big and strong, who'd never been sick a day in his life? There had to be some mistake.

When she'd left him to come to Atlantis, torn herself away from his safe embrace, he'd just laughed and said he'd be there when she was done fighting the aliens.

She looked back at Sheppard, saw his lips moving without sound coming out. Saw the genuine sorrow in his eyes. The Colonel would not joke with her, not about this.

It was no mistake. Her daddy was gone.

Gone. Like Woolsey and McKay and so many others. Emotion filled her throat and burned, and she swallowed it down. There would be a funeral. She had to go, make the necessary arrangements…

"When—" She swallowed again. "When is the funeral?"

"Tomorrow," Sheppard said. "You are scheduled to leave at 0800 tomorrow."

Jennifer nodded, pushing herself up out of the chair. Her knees wobbled and she gripped the back of the seat, hoping he hadn't noticed.

"I would go with you, Doc, but—"

"Of course, not." Jennifer shook her head. "You are needed here. And you need to get some more rest." She managed a smile. "Doctor's orders."

"Doc—"

"Do not concern yourself, Sheppard." A light touch on Jennifer's elbow made her turn. Teyla gave her a gentle smile. Despite a belly swollen in the last stages of pregnancy, the Athosian woman was still silent on her feet.

"I will go with Jennifer," Teyla said.

Jennifer blinked, frowned. "Don't be ridiculous, Teyla. You could have your baby any day. You can't go traipsing around the galaxy just to hold my hand." The very idea, traveling in her condition. Jennifer would never forgive herself if something happened to either Teyla or the child on her account. But still, it had been kind of Teyla to offer.

"Thank you, Teyla." Jennifer squeezed her hand. "But I will be fine."

Teyla's elegant brows narrowed and she did not move her hand from Jennifer's arm. "You are part of our family, Jennifer. We will not let you face this fresh sorrow alone."

"Teyla…" Jennifer swallowed, warmth curling in her chest at the concern in both Sheppard and Teyla's expressions. It pushed back some of the dark pressing down on her heart. "Thank-you, but you must stay here and care for your little one."

Jennifer touched a hand to Teyla's belly and felt the child kick. _Wait, little one, _she pleaded silently. _Wait until I get back._

"I'll go."

At the deep growl behind her, Jennifer whirled, her heart jumping into her throat. Ronan filled the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. He didn't look at her, his gaze fixed on Sheppard.

"Well, there you go." Sheppard smiled at Jennifer. "Ronan will go."

She managed a weak smile, not daring to look at the other two. Ronan hadn't spoken to her since that day—it seemed forever ago—in the hallway when she'd told him she was interested in someone else. In McKay.

Jennifer felt tears rising to the surface. She had to leave.

"Excuse me," she said. "I have to…"

But the rest of the words stuck in her throat, and swallowing just made it worse. Jennifer turned and fled, vaguely aware that Ronan moved out of the doorway to let her pass.

All those men—gone.

Woolsey—gone.

McKay—gone.

And now her father, her daddy, who would always be there for her. Would always make sure she had a home to come back to.

Her daddy, the only family she had left. Gone.

Jennifer wiped a tear from her cheek, waving blindly at the sensor to let herself into her quarters. She really was alone.

* * *

><p>She'd always hated packing.<p>

But since she couldn't sleep, she might as well pack. It beat laying in the dark for hours, feeling sorry for herself. Jennifer sighed and shoved the hangers with scrubs aside, searching in the depths of her closet for her black pumps. She thought she'd brought them—that, and a black dress—for the infrequent special occasions on base.

But neither the shoes nor the dress were to be found.

It always seemed that no matter how much she brought, she was always missing what she needed when the time came. Daddy would tease her about the size of her suitcases, heaving them into the car and then feigning back pain until she came rushing over, full of concern.

Then he'd straighten up, perfectly sound, and roar with laughter.

Jennifer bit her lip to stem fresh tears, backing out of the closet. She'd just have to buy proper clothes when she got to Earth. Would there be time to go shopping, as well as make the other arrangements? Perhaps she'd left something suitable in her closet at home.

Someone knocked at the door, and Jennifer sighed. She wasn't fit company for anyone.

"Jennifer, it is Teyla."

"Come in."

She crossed to the bed, picking up her toiletry bag and stuffing it into her small duffel. Only a night, and then she'd be back. With the ongoing troubles, they needed all hands available in the med center.

"Good morning, Jennifer." Teyla walked toward her with grace that should be impossible for a tiny, pregnant woman. "How do you fare?"

Jennifer glanced back at her duffel, pulling the zipper shut with more force than needed. "I am fine, Teyla. Thank you."

"Truly?" Her friend's calm, gentle voice seeped through Jennifer's defenses, and she felt tears welling up again.

Honestly. The only thing she'd been good for lately was crying.

"I thought not." Teyla rested a hand on Jennifer's arm. "Are you sure—"

"Positive." Jennifer moved Teyla's hand to rest on her extended stomach. "Look after baby here and I'll be back soon. All right?"

The concern in Teyla's eyes did not waver, but she gave a slight nod. "Sheppard and I will be standing by. If you should need us, don't hesitate—"

"I'll be back before you can blink." Jennifer attempted a perky smile, but her trembling lower lip ruined the effect. "Trust me. I'll be fine."

"Very well." Teyla took Jennifer's hand and squeezed it. "I am scheduled to instruct a sparring session at 0730. So, I bid you farewell now."

"Thank-you, Teyla." Jennifer hesitated, then pulled the slender Athosian into a hug, letting the woman's calm sooth her ragged emotions. Teyla returned the embrace.

"We will be here when you return," she said. Then gasped as the unborn child kicked inside her.

Jennifer gave a breathless giggle, stepping back and patting Teyla's belly. "I think the little one is telling me to get going."

Teyla smiled, a beautiful smile. "So it would seem."

Picking up her duffel—which felt startlingly heavy for such a small bag—Jennifer walked with Teyla to the door. She glanced back and sighed.

_Be back soon._

* * *

><p>Jennifer wished they would hurry up and activate the gate, before she started crying and humiliated herself in front of all these people. Again.<p>

It'd been bad enough that Sheppard had intercepted her in the hallway en route to the gate room, again expressing his condolences in his genuine, awkward way and causing the fountain of tears to overflow once more.

It was just as well McKay was missing this. Jennifer blinked, swallowing. He'd never been good with tears. Or emotions. Or anything that didn't have wires and circuitry, really. Jennifer shivered. But that wasn't fair. He'd tried his best.

She brought her mind firmly back to the gate room.

And now this. What was the hold up? Now she had to stand and wait, while all the occupants of the busy gate room either pretended not to notice or—worse yet—came over to shake her hand and mumble apologies.

It wasn't their fault. If it was anyone's fault, it was hers for leaving her father alone.

She felt their sympathetic stares, knew what they were thinking. Poor Doctor Keller. First all the relationship problems. Then McKay is killed. Now this.

Jennifer stared down at her duffel bag by her feet. Not for the first time she wished she could disappear into the floor and wake up in a week. Or maybe never.

A large, brown hand crossed into her vision and grabbed the duffel bag. She gasped and looked up. Way up. _Ronan_.

He met her glance with a stoic nod, and Jennifer quickly moved her gaze to the gate. Now she really wanted to disappear.

She didn't want anyone to come. If she were going to fall apart into a sobbing mess—as seemed likely—she wanted to do it alone. Or with her friends back home. Not in front of her strong, brave co-workers at Atlantis. Especially not him.

"You don't have to…" Jennifer swallowed, the words sticking in her throat. "I'm fine."

She felt his gaze on her. "Okay."

Nothing. Great. If Sheppard had put him up to this, he wouldn't be easy to lose. Desperation rose in her throat.

"I mean—won't Amelia be upset if you come with me?" Jennifer clasped her hands in front of her.

"No."

No, she wouldn't be upset? Or no, they were no longer an item? Jennifer knew she'd been walking in a fog ever since—well, ever since the _Dedalous_—but had she missed a falling out? A flush rose in her cheeks. Not that it was any of her business.

What was she thinking, worrying about his relationship status when her father had just died? Had she lost her mind? Tears threatened again. She had to get rid of him.

"I know you have other things to do," Jennifer said. "More important than baby-sitting me. You can tell Sheppard, I'll be absolutely fine." She said it again, with conviction as if to convince herself. "I'm fine."

Silence. She could feel his eyes on her again.

"You want me to leave?"

Heat rushed into Jennifer's cheeks, and she stuffed her hands into her pockets so she would stop wringing them. It wasn't that—exactly. Why did the man always have to make everything so complicated? Why couldn't he just be a good little caveman and go away? Big caveman. Be a good big caveman and go away.

Sheesh. She really was losing her mind.

The stargate whooshed to life and Jennifer jumped. Ronan brushed past her, her duffel in one hand and his pack over a brawny shoulder. "Let's go."

Oh, terrific. This was going to go great. Jennifer brushed away a tear and hurried after him.


	2. Chapter 2

**2.**

Earth dwellers had such strange customs.

Ronan leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms and ignoring the curious glances—or outright stares—of the many guests at the funeral. Jennifer's father had apparently been well-respected.

The guests filled their drinks and laughed and chattered about nothing. The Earth climate, their newest possessions, their latest triumphs. They smiled and acted as if they had not laid one of their number in the ground a mere half-hour before, leaving his daughter without close kin in the world.

He clenched his jaw, evenly returning the hostile glance of a plump man in an ill-fitting suit. Without kin, perhaps. But not without family.

These people cared nothing for Jennifer. They might say so, expressing such fervent sorrow over her father's passing and patting her shoulder as they might a witless child. But their eyes and actions said differently, and Ronan had learned long ago to trust the latter.

They asked how her work was going and smiled at her non-committal answer, then talked on and on about their own accomplishments. Buildings raised, money earned, new clothes bought. Of what use were more possessions?

All while treating Jennifer with a kind of sympathetic arrogance, never bothering to discover what she actually did. Never realizing that the woman they treated like a fragile child saved more lives every day than they would in a lifetime.

He'd lasted ten minutes, before he had to step away. It was that or punch somebody, and he had no wish to dishonor her father's funeral. Ronan cracked his neck, eyes sweeping the room. Or draw attention to himself. He shrugged his shoulders, annoyed by the constricting fabric of the suit stretched across his shoulders.

Sheppard had talked him into buying it when they visited Earth for the funeral of Sheppard's father. Something about the suit helping him blend in. He somehow doubted any garment would deflect the furtive stares lingering on him.

Ronan's eyes found Jennifer, and he frowned. Her posture showed her weariness, her smile had long ago become fixed and her eyes held none of their usual sparkle. She shifted, favoring her ankle. No doubt her feet hurt from those ridiculous shoes she'd insisted on wearing.

The fact they showed off her long legs were their only redeeming feature.

Jennifer waved farewell to another guest and turned, looking like she might collapse, but was intercepted by the plump man from before.

Yup. Time to be going.

Ronan pushed off the wall and strode toward her, grim amusement slipping through his mind as the noisy crowd fell silent and parted before him like water. What did they expect him to do? Shoot them? If that were his intention, shrinking back wouldn't help them.

He came up behind Jennifer, who turned, distracted by the sudden quiet. He took her arm, careful to keep his grip light, and drew her toward the door. The plump man opened his mouth to protest, but Ronan shot him a look and his mouth snapped shut.

"Ronan—" Jennifer hissed. "_What_ are you doing?"

He glanced down, realized she was nearly running in those shoes to keep up, and shortened his stride. "Time to go, Doc. You're exhausted."

"My guests—I can't—" She was tired enough to be almost incoherent.

"They'll live."

"But—"

Ronan crooked an eyebrow at her, and she sputtered into silence. He recognized the sparks of anger in her eyes, knew that in moments she would dissolve into tears. Melena had been the same way.

Women were so strange. And Earth women were the worst.

He swung the church door open, guiding her around a huddle of funeral attendees on the sidewalk and stalling any ill-timed condolences with a sharp look.

"Stop glaring at them, Ronan," Jennifer whispered. "They're friends of the family."

Ronan glanced down at her, startled and suddenly aware of the light scent that clung to her and her weight leaning on his arm. She hadn't called him by name in months.

He looked away, searching the city streets for one of the yellow vehicles Sheppard had called cabs. "They're no friends of yours."

Ignoring the indignation rolling off her, Ronan stepped forward and raised his hand in his best imitation of Sheppard's nonchalant gesture. With a shriek, a yellow vehicle slid to a stop a couple feet away.

Ronan regarded the driver—a squat man with a dirty cap and dangling cigar—with suspicion, but pulled open the door and helped Jennifer inside. He walked behind the vehicle and climbed in, slamming the door shut.

His knees wedged against the seat in front of him. These vehicles obviously weren't made for people the size of Satedans.

Ronan glanced at the driver. "105 S. Ash, Brampton."

He leaned back, ignoring Jennifer's astonished expression. He'd made note of the address of her family home when they'd stopped by earlier in the day to fetch her funeral clothes, thinking it might be useful in case of trouble. But then, most people from Earth were not very observant.

Jennifer leaned back as well, sighing. But the next moment the vehicle swerved and she gasped as his arm pinned her to the seat, his right hand already at his gun at his back before he realized he'd moved. Ronan unclenched his fingers, taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart.

"Ronan…" She touched his arm.

He flinched, her fingers burning, and he dropped his arm, sliding his gun back into the holster. Ronan rested back against the seat, gripping the door handle to brace himself as the vehicle once again swerved through traffic. He flung a murderous glance at the driver, forcing himself to relax.

Jennifer was his priority right now, and for that, he needed focus. He could sort himself out later. Sheppard's nasal voice rang in his head. _Easy, Chewie. Shooting the guy won't get us there faster. _It was one thing for a stranger to endanger him and Sheppard with reckless driving. It was something else to put Jen in danger.

She got in enough trouble without any help.

Ronan shifted his shoulders. He hated the confinement of these vehicles. He would have walked, but it was too far for Jennifer. And those shoes.

Nothing for it but to tough it out. He shot the driver another warning look. He'd rather face a hive ship of Wraith than trust Jennifer's life to this man.

* * *

><p>Jennifer had fallen asleep. He wasn't surprised, considering. Ronan leaned an elbow on the cab door, studying her. She looked much younger asleep. Fragile.<p>

The cab driver cleared his throat, impatient, and Ronan flung him a dark look. He leaned into the cab. He could carry Jennifer inside, but he doubted she'd take kindly to it. She'd made her feelings clear enough.

"Wake up, Doc," he said.

She stirred, then startled awake, her hand going to her purse and her head. "Did I—I'm sorry—"

"We're here," Ronan said.

"Oh." Her cheeks turned bright red and she dug in her purse, thrusting a wad of cash at the driver without bothering to count it. "Thank you."

The driver muttered something unintelligible and probably profane. Ronan took Jennifer's arm to help her out of the vehicle, not trusting the shoes, and walked her up to the porch. She fumbled with the keys and he took them from her, forcing the stubborn latch to turn and pushing the door open.

He cast a glance around the interior, which was just as they'd left it. He didn't sense any threat.

Ronan took Jennifer's arm and led her to the couch. "Sit."

"Really, I'm fine." Her cheeks were still flushed.

He moved to the kitchen and began opening cupboards, searching for something bland and filling to settle her stomach. She hadn't touched a bite of her plate of food at the funeral, though he'd devoured three full plates. One thing about Earth funerals—the food was good. Not up to Satedan standards, but good.

"Ronan."

He glanced back. She'd followed him into the kitchen. He took a package of crackers off a shelf and met her halfway, steering her back to the couch.

"Sit," he said, pulling her down beside him. "And take off those shoes."

"Really, I'm fine." She sounded almost cross, yanking at the buckles of the strappy shoes and tossing them onto the floor. Her spitting reminded him of an angry cub.

Ronan let amusement crinkle his eyes.

"Here." He handed her the crackers. "Eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"You need to eat." He gave her a look that allowed no argument, stretching out his legs and leaning back into the couch. She frowned at him, clearly annoyed, then began to munch the crackers. Half the package swiftly disappeared.

Jennifer settled into the cushions, finishing the rest of the crackers at a slower pace. She set the plastic wrapping on the low table by the couch, running her small, slim hands over its wooden surface.

"Daddy made this." She spoke softly, as if to herself. "He loved woodworking. Making beautiful things. He made the bookshelves in my room too."

Ronan eyed her, more intrigued by her thoughtful expression than he wanted to admit. The setting sun tilted through the house's windows and brought out the gold in her hair.

She looked up, remembering his presence, and snatched her hand back as if burned. Her cheeks reddened and she turned her face away, tucking her hair behind her ears. A nervous gesture.

"I'm sorry. Listen to me, blathering on like an idiot. I'm sure you must be tired-"

"You're not."

Jennifer glanced back to him, frowning. "I'm not what?"

"Not an idiot."

She blinked. Tucked back the hair again. "Oh."

Ronan drew up his legs and leaned his elbows on his knees, cursing himself. Other men would tell her what they really meant. That she was smart. Beautiful. Strong. Not weak or childish or simple, like those people at the funeral thought. So-called friends.

"Don't let them bother you," he said.

Jennifer's clear gaze once more showed confusion. "Who?"

"The people. At the funeral. They don't know you." Ronan crossed his arms. "What you do."

"Oh." She lowered her eyes, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. "They don't bother..."

Ronan just looked at her. Another thing he liked about Jennifer. She wouldn't lie.

She sighed, pulling a pillow to her and hugging it. Ronan felt a stab of jealousy and turned his face away.

"They shouldn't bother me," Jennifer said. "I know that. But..."

"They do," he said.

"Yes," she whispered. "I don't know why."

"Because you feel like they're right. That you're weak. Awkward. Incompetent."

Jennifer turned a startled gaze on him, her astonishment evident. He suppressed the urge to laugh. She wore her feelings on her face, her body language speaking more clearly than she ever could. It was obvious.

"Yes." She studied the flower design of the pillow she clutched.

"You're not."

Ronan didn't remove his gaze, waiting until Jennifer looked up so she saw he meant it. She bit her lip, and some of the tension left her small frame.

"Thank you, Ronan."

His name again. It sounded so different on her lips. Soft. Gentle. Ronan stood, crossing the room to lift a blanket off a chair. He brought it back, dropping it on her bare feet to still her shivers. "Get some rest, Doc."

She sighed again and pulled the blanket up to her chin. "I should go to a real bed."

He crooked an eyebrow at her.

"Don't feel like moving." Jennifer's smile was sheepish.

"Don't have to."

Ronan moved to the front door, checking the locks. He did the same at the rear entrance and made sure the windows were all securely fastened. When he returned to the living room Jennifer's even breathing told him she slept soundly.

She'd curled into a ball around the pillow, blanket pulled up over her ears. Ronan removed his gun from the small of his back and set it on the hearth beside the cold ashes in the fireplace. He laid back, settling onto the thick floor rug.

The clock on the mantle chimed, and he tensed before he located the sound. He forced his muscles to relax and closed his eyes, listening to the creaking of the house and Jennifer's soft breathing.

Ronan's consciousness had almost blurred into oblivion when Jennifer's scream brought him to his feet.


	3. Chapter 3

3**.**

_Jennifer stared at Rodney, struck speechless by his gall. "You _forgot?_"_

_"Ah, you know. Just got a little tied up. What with saving the galaxy and all that. Two galaxies, actually." He shrugged. "But you'll never believe what I discovered about thermo-"_

_"Rodney." Jennifer crossed her arms. "You left me waiting on the east pier for two hours. _Two hours."

_"Goodness." His face appeared genuinely startled. "Why'd you wait that long? You should have assumed I was too busy to join you."_

_"Yes, I guess I should have." Jennifer stiffened, the angry words flowing out. "Since it's the third time this week." _

_"Well, there you go." He smiled. _

_"Rodney, you can't just keep doing this." She blinked back tears. "Don't you care about me? About _us?_ Or are yourself and your discoveries really the only things that matter to you?"_

_He gaped at her, his mouth opening and closing in an almost comical manner. "Wha-?" Rodney shook his head. "Of course, I care about you. I just have very important work-"_

_"Oh, and I don't?" Jennifer's fingers dug into her arms. She wanted to stop the rush of cutting words, but she couldn't. "I'm just a medical doctor. Not a scientist. Not a physicist. Not like you."_

_Rodney adopted his patient expression. "Now, Jennifer, be reasonable-" He jumped and touched a hand to his ear. "Sheppard?"_

_She just stared at him as he talked to the Colonel, glancing nervously between her and the wall. Her anger bled away, leaving only a sickness in her stomach. _

_Rodney turned back to her. "Apparently there's some sort of problem with the shield interfacing on the _Daedalus._ Woolsey wanted me to take a look. I'll have it good as new in a jiffy. Well, better than new, probably."_

_Jennifer narrowed her eyes. "Go on, then."_

_He hesitated, frowning. "I mean, I don't have to go. I can take care of it later. We could, I don't know, go-do something."_

_"Just go, Rodney." Jennifer glared. "Don't let me keep from your important work."_

_"Oh." He smiled. "Right." _

Jennifer shifted, moaned. The images in her mind blurred and reformed.

_She watched the video feed, frozen. The massive ship, the _Daedalus_, floating in space. Peaceful. Serene. And somewhere on it, was Rodney. Ecstatic because he'd not only fixed the shield interfacing, but had boosted the power in the process._

_Another massive ship dropped into space beside it. And another. And even more, coming in an overwhelming flood. Hive ships._

_They fired volley after volley at the _Daedalus, _yet it stood firm. And then, a volley broke through the shields. And another. In a moment the ship would be overrun. They'd take the ship. Use it to find Atlantis. _

_The _Daedalus_ erupted in a ball of orange flame. They'd hit the self-destruct. In the distance, Jennifer heard someone screaming..._

"Jennifer."

It was a man's voice, low and insistent. She gasped, thrashing to free herself. She had to go, had to help. They might find survivors. They'd need her in the infirmary.

"Jennifer, calm down."

She cracked her eyes open and frowned in confusion, her surroundings swimming. Her gaze fell on the coffee table, barely visible in the filtered moonlight through the window. Her daddy had made it. She was at home, in her daddy's house.

Not on Atlantis. Not watching the _Daedalus_ explode.

"You're okay." The deep voice was speaking again, calloused fingers gripping her hand. "You're safe."

"Daddy?" She waited anxiously, but he made no reply. Jennifer forced herself to open her eyes the rest of the way, and she gasped at the dark form that filled her vision.

"Easy, Doc." The hand around hers tightened.

The image swam, then steadied. _Ronan._ _Why is he here? He shouldn't be here. _Jennifer stared at him in blank confusion before the events of the past 24 hours crashed over her, jolting her wide awake in an instant. She groaned and closed her eyes.

If only the couch would open up and swallow her. Waking up screaming from a nightmare, clutching the hand of-well, _him_? Heat rushed up her face and neck. This had to be the most embarrassing moment of her life. And with her track record, that was saying something.

Maybe if she kept her eyes closed, he'd go away.

Ronan reached over with his free hand and pulled up the blanket she'd nearly kicked off in her panic.

"You haven't been sleeping."

His quiet statement held no question. Jennifer almost groaned again. When several long moments passed with no movement, she sighed. Apparently, he wasn't going away.

And with his long, rough fingers wrapped around hers, sending warmth spreading up her arm and throughout her traitorous body, she wasn't sure she wanted him to leave. She wasn't sure what she wanted, actually. She couldn't seem to think straight when he was, well...

"The nightmares will fade, if you let them."

Jennifer's eyes snapped open, only to find his intense green gaze fixed on her. He crouched beside her, elbow leaning on one knee, dreads falling in his face. A familiar shiver of fear ran through her.

Something flickered in his eyes, but disappeared too quickly for her identify it. Jennifer sighed and sat up, drawing the blanket around her in an excuse to remove her hand. Cold rushed over it the instant she withdrew her fingers.

"Did I wake you up?" She glanced at Ronan, and he shrugged. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

Even kneeling on the floor, the huge man loomed over her. Jennifer bit her lip and sighed. It'd been three months. Every night, the visions in her mind woke her, screaming. And then the guilt, crashing over her.

"It wasn't your fault." His voice was deep. Confident.

Jennifer shook her head, tears springing to her eyes. He didn't understand. "No, Ronan. It _was_ my fault that he..."

She looked at him, met his impassive gaze. Swallowed. If she told him, he would understand. She'd sent Rodney away, sent him to his death. And then Ronan would see her for who she really was, a murderer. He'd tell everyone on Atlantis, and he'd be right to do so.

Her whole being cringed at the thought, but Jennifer dropped her eyes and forced the words out. "He was on the _Daedalus_ because I sent him away. He wasn't going to go. But I was-angry, and I-told him to go. He's dead, because of me."

"Don't." His tone brooked no argument, but she was past caring. She shook her head, tears sliding down her cheeks.

"Jennifer, listen to me." Startled, she met his eyes. A tremor of fear ran through her at the anger that sparked in their depths. "You are not at fault. The Wraith come and destroy. Do you blame Sheppard for sending McKay? Woolsey, for asking his help?"

She couldn't move as tears ran down her cheeks.

"Grief is enough to carry." Ronan shifted back, his tone lower. "Don't carry guilt."

Jennifer wiped haphazardly at her tears, eyes stinging. She felt horrible. He'd lost friends, family. A lover. His home world. Seven long years of his life, which he would never have back.

And here she was, weeping like a little girl when she'd only lost two of the people she cared about. He'd lost everyone.

"How do you do it," Jennifer whispered, before she thought better of it. "How do you forget?"

She heard his quick moment, felt his surprised look. Ronan remained silent so long Jennifer feared she'd merely twisted the knife of his own grief.

"I haven't forgotten," he finally said, simply.

Jennifer looked at him and saw in his eyes the truth of his words. Heat rose in her cheeks. How could she have been so thoughtless? Of course, he hadn't forgotten. A person didn't forget loss like that.

But, how did he do it? Push through the walls of pain and darkness she felt pressing all around her and gripping her by the throat. Jennifer clenched the blanket in her hands, staring past him at the dim room. "How do you go on?"

Another silence. "I try not to let what I can't change bother me."

Simple words. Straightforward. But powerful, just like the one who spoke them.


	4. Chapter 4

4.

He had to get away.

Move. Leave. She was getting under his skin again; he could feel it. Just like before. Jennifer looked right at him with those damned big eyes, and Ronan knew she was just as dangerous as she'd ever been. Maybe more.

And he knew how much that'd hurt.

Ronan pushed away from the couch and stood in one fluid motion, not missing her startled, frightened look. Just as well. She'd always been afraid of him - he hadn't missed that, either - but in this case it served his purposes.

He'd seen the pity in her eyes as she cried, pity for him, and it didn't sit well. The last thing he wanted from her was pity.

Plenty of other things, maybe. But not pity.

"Get some sleep, Doc." Suppressed emotion made the words come out harsher than he'd intended. "You're safe here."

In the tense silence, Jennifer curled deeper into the blanket. She stared at her fingers clutched tight in the fabric.

"I know," she whispered.

Ronan eyed her, suspicious. She knew she was safe, because she was here? On her home planet? In her father's house? He knew Jennifer was inobservant and overly innocent, at times. But he didn't think she'd be that foolish. Track record considered.

She knew she was safe - because he was there to protect her? He scowled, turning away to scan the perimeter of the house through the window. It didn't pay to think on it. Just be disappointed.

_Can't be disappointed over somethin' that's not there to begin with. Ain't never gonna happen. _The voice in Ronan's brain taunted him and his scowl deepened. He crossed his arms.

He'd known better than to volunteer.

If anyone'd been the idiot, it'd been him. She'd looked so young, vulnerable, sitting there in that chair, having lost the person she loved most. He'd seen the grief and despair stamped on her face, seen her wandering in its fog these past months. If not for the day-to-day struggle to stay alive, and his hatred for the Wraith, it would have burned him up inside. It almost did anyway.

He'd not been about to let her go face her grief alone. Whatever else she was, Jennifer was family.

Ronan cracked his neck, listening for the quiet breathing that would tell him she'd fallen again into an exhausted sleep. _I haven't forgotten_, he had told her. And that'd been true, in more ways than one.

He'd tried, gods knew he had. Wasn't for lack of opportunity. Every time a new batch of females arrived on Atlantis, once they got over their terror at the sight of him - or perhaps because of it - they fell over themselves to talk to him at mess, ask for sparring lessons or run into him in the hallways.

Amelia'd been different. She was a capable woman, a fighter. He'd respected that. She'd liked him, and was beautiful enough to tempt any man. But there came a day - a day, if he were honest with himself, he'd known would come - when he'd had to walk away.

She'd asked him what she'd done, what was wrong. But he couldn't tell her. Because there wasn't anything wrong with her. With their relationship. And he couldn't tell her the truth.

She wasn't Jennifer.

Ronan moved away from the window, sitting on the hearth and leaning his arms on his knees. Jennifer slept again, peaceful, for the moment.

Soft. Gentle. Beautiful.

But strong, too, with the kind of steel inside that people often missed and that he'd learned to respect. She'd do what she thought was right. No matter what. In matters of medicine, her word was law, and she wasn't afraid to throw her small weight around.

Ronan leaned back, crossing his arms.

He shouldn't have come. He'd known better, and come anyway. Wasn't sure what that said about him. Probably that he was an idiot. He'd said too much already; in his desire to comfort he'd let her in too far.

He'd let her in once before, let her begin to see the side of himself only a few ever saw. Sheppard. Teyla. Jennifer. And she'd walked away.

He didn't blame her, really.

Jennifer still feared him. Distrusted him, though she hid it well. It had been no surprised she'd chosen the safer option. McKay had been everything Ronan wasn't. Well-educated. Talkative. One of those emotional types women seemed to like. From her home planet.

Ronan smirked. Useless in a fight.

But it didn't matter. Jennifer had made her choice.

He leaned back, half-closed eyes watching her and senses tuned to the sounds of the night outside. She'd chosen someone else.

And he could live with that. Because he had no other choice.

* * *

><p>Why did she smell breakfast? Her quarters weren't anywhere near the mess hall. Yet she distinctly smelled frying eggs and bacon. Jennifer sighed, letting the familiar scents fill her nostrils and comfort her.<p>

She missed her and her father's Saturday morning breakfast routine.

Jennifer would sit at the table and read him the newspaper while he cooked up omelets and bacon and teased her about her latest cool guy crush and quizzed her on science vocabulary. By her 10th birthday she could recite all the elements on the periodic table by memory. Her dad had taken her to get ice cream to celebrate.

_Dad. _The events of the past 24 hours flashed through her mind and Jennifer sat up, grabbing the couch to steady herself. She blinked, the peaceful living room in her dad's house taking shape around her. Dad. Her dad was gone.

If it wasn't her dad cooking, then who…

Jennifer craned her neck to see over the couch and into the kitchen. A man loomed over the stove, dreads tied at the nape of his neck, stirring something in a Teflon skillet. _Ronan?_

The sight of the hulking Satedan scrambling eggs in her 17th-century farmhouse kitchen was so incongruous that Jennifer stifled a laugh. Maybe she was still dreaming?

"Hungry?" Ronan turned, quirking an eyebrow.

Jennifer rubbed her eyes and felt her hair experimentally. Oh, no. The mirror would have to wait. She pushed aside the blanket, tugging down her wrinkled dress and pushing herself to her feet.

"Depends on what you found to cook," she said, skirting the island and moving blindly toward the coffeemaker.

"Does it matter?" He shrugged, flipping a slice of bacon in the skillet.

_This is so incredibly awkward. _But really, the whole situation was so ludicrous as to be more funny than awkward. Jennifer measured the coffee into the machine and punched the button. Strangely enough, it felt more—nice—than awkward. Almost—normal. _Weird. _

She squeezed past him—the kitchen had not been designed for people his size—and peered into the skillet. Eggs. Bacon. And what looked like green onions. "I didn't know you could cook."

"No reason for you to know."

_True._ Jennifer flushed. If things had turned out differently, she might have found out. She raised her eyes and found him watching her, gaze as inscrutable as ever.

"Who taught you to cook?" Jennifer dug in an overhead cabinet for her favorite 'I love doctors' coffee mug, mostly as an excuse not to look at him. Way too distracting. The man did bad things to her powers of speech.

"My grandmother."

Jennifer blinked and whirled to look at him. His grandmother? It made sense, of course. Even fierce Satedan warriors had grandmothers. But she'd always sort of pictured him coming to the world full-sized as the resident caveman, not a little kid.

His eyes crinkled and she recognized amusement at her expense. He'd always had this annoying habit of guessing your thoughts and laughing at them and at you.

"Of course…" She swallowed a stammer. "Of course. Your grandmother."

Ronan leaned past her to ease the skillet off the burner and switch off the stovetop. "My grandmother—_nenya_ in our tongue—taught me many things. Which plants in the woods are good to eat, and which kill you. How to prepare and cook them. Now I live in Atlantis, and I have no need to cook."

He glanced at her, eyes serious. "But I have not forgotten."

"No…" Jennifer broke away from that penetrating gaze, pouring herself a mug of hot coffee. "Of course, you wouldn't."

Silence fell, except for the opening and shutting of cabinet doors and drawers as Ronan ransacked them. He eventually found plates and utensils, shoveling some of his breakfast concoction onto each.

Jennifer took the offered plate and fork and dug in. She recognized all the ingredients. How bad could it be? A few steps away, Ronan leaned against the kitchen island and devoured the small mountain heaped on his plate.

"Do you stop to breath?" She smiled.

His fork paused, suspended over the plate, and he looked up. She would have sworn he actually looked embarrassed. "Sometimes."

Ronan sent a pointed glance at her breakfast and raised an inquiring eyebrow.

Jennifer tilted her head, considering. "A bit dry, but overall pretty tasty."

"Said she taught me to cook." He smirked. "Not cook well."

_Is he flirting?_ Jennifer nearly choked on her Starbucks blend. Surely not. Of course, not. But still, his was the type of smile that transformed his rough features. _You should smile more often. You're not so scary when you smile. _

It didn't take him long to polish off the remainder of the egg and bacon blend. Jennifer chucked it all in the dishwasher and set it to run. She ran a hand along the edge of the counter. "I suppose I'll have to decide what to do with the house."

It'd have to be sold. The thought tore at her inside. Every bit of her identity, all the memories that made up her life—they all centred around this house. Her father had loved it and pampered it.

How many times had he jokingly called it his "baby?" More than she could recall. It felt like losing yet another member of her family.

"What will you do?"

Jennifer started. She'd almost forgotten Ronan's existence. Almost.

"Sell it, I suppose." Her eyes traveled across every beloved inch of the house. "It's the practical thing to do. I live in another galaxy, after all."

Another galaxy. One far far away from the cozy, secure, safe life she'd shared with her father. A bit lonely sometimes. But still, a good life.

"What do you want?"

Jennifer raised her head, startled. He crossed his arms, watching her with an intent expression she couldn't decipher. What did she want? It didn't matter what she wanted. Since when had she ever gotten what she wanted?

She shrugged. "I don't suppose it matters, does it?"

Ronan didn't look away. Waiting. For her answer. Why did he care, anyway? It was just a house—_forget that. Just everything. The only thing I have left. _

"I want to grow old here." Jennifer dropped her gaze. The words trickled out, bypassing her brain and coming from the heart. "I want my kids to run down these halls, climb the sycamore tree outside and come in with scraped knees so I can kiss it better. I want it to be filled with laughter and life again."

She grimaced. Why had she told him?

"Then do it."

Jennifer stared at him, frowning. "I can't."

His gaze didn't waver. "Why not?"

_Don't be ridiculous. _"I live on Atlantis."

"You'll come back some day."

"I can't maintain a house from a galaxy away. Even if I rented it, someone would have to check in and make repairs, collect rent, etc."

Someone—like Peter. A friend from her growing-up years, he'd done well for himself managing rental properties. He could be trusted to find good renters, who would love the house and care for it.

But that was ridiculous.

Ronan shrugged. "So find someone."

"It's just not practical." Jennifer sighed, setting her coffee aside. "I know that. It's just…"

"It's home."

She looked up, surprised yet again by the depth revealed in his matter-of-fact comment. Of course, he understood. His whole planet had been ravaged by the Wraith. Everything, gone. The only place he'd ever called home—destroyed. She'd been horribly insensitive.

"Do what you want, Doc." He still hadn't moved. "It's your home."

Could she? Could she do something so impractical, so sentimental, just because it was the last bit of home she had left? It wouldn't be the same now, with Dad gone. But it was still her home. Hers, now.

She'd built a new life for herself in Atlantis. But now that life lay in shambles. Maybe this could be her chance to start over. Build a new life on the foundation of her old self and the good life she and her father had shared.

"Yeah." Jennifer met his gaze and smiled. "Maybe I will keep it, after all."


End file.
